


Fly With Me

by SqueekaCuomo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety, Background Relationships, Cats, Community: hd_erised, Flying, Long-Haired Draco Malfoy, M/M, Matchmaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 20:52:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12690033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SqueekaCuomo/pseuds/SqueekaCuomo
Summary: It shouldn’t be that hard to cross a line in the grass. So why was it?





	Fly With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nerakrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerakrose/gifts).



> Happy Erised, Nerakrose! You wanted something sweet and fluffy, so I hope this satisfies your sweet tooth. :)

**Fly With Me**

The toes of Draco’s boots barely touched the white outline in the grass. _It’s just a line_ , he told himself, _a white strip that has been charmed into the grass, marking the borders of the pitch. One side of the line you’re out. The other you’re in. Nothing more._ But yet, Draco couldn't bring himself to cross over it. It’s like there was some sort of invisible wall blocking him from picking up his foot and crossing the line. Just thinking about making that one move made his stomach clench painfully. It’d been so long since he’d been back to Hogwarts. And even longer since he’d stepped onto the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch.

After the war, Draco’s parents had decided that he wouldn’t be returning to Hogwarts to finish out his education; his eighth year, as so many had come to call it. Instead, they’d hired the best tutors that their money and tarnished reputations could afford, and had him home schooled. At the time, he’d been relieved: he couldn’t imagine what stepping back into the school would be like after everything that he’d done and that had happened. But now, Draco couldn’t stop himself from thinking that maybe things would have been better if he’d gone back, if he’d been forced to deal with the consequences of his actions. He knew that it would have been awful, but if he had, maybe he wouldn’t be afraid to cross a bloody line in the grass. But who knew. Certainly not Draco.

Now he was stuck, thirty years old, bouncing around the Ministry and hoping he found something that felt right. This quarter it was inspections for the Department of Magical Games and Sports. At first, Draco had thought it sounded fun, getting to spend his time on Quidditch pitches, meeting with the different teams, taking in games. Instead, his constant proximity to the game he’d once loved so much had left him queasy, tight stomached and sweaty palmed. He missed it so much that it stopped him in his tracks.

And today was no different.

Draco inhaled deeply, telling himself that the Hogwarts pitch was no different than Puddlemere or Holyhead. He’d gotten used to being on them, even enjoying his time there, after all. But he knew that it wasn’t true. He had never played on those pitches, feeling the wind bite his cheeks and whip over his face, searching through the players, hoping for a single glint of- 

“Hullo there.”

Draco jumped, his clipboard falling to the ground and tumbling right over the white line. _Traitor_ , Draco thought at the board.

“Sorry,” the voice said, deep and warm, and only then did Draco realize who it was. Before he could even think to open his mouth, Potter was picking up the board and offering it to him. “Shouldn’t have snuck up like that. I-” Draco snatched the board out of his hand with more force than was necessary. Potter’s eyebrows raised, but he didn’t say anything.

“Potter.” Draco shook his head ever so slightly, the ends of his blond hair brushing against his neck. “You startled me. I…” He wanted to apologize, but he couldn’t make his mouth form the words.

“Lost in thought?” Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet once before settling back down. Draco couldn’t help but notice that he was standing on the other side of the line.

When Draco had received his list of inspections for the week, he’d become tense when he’d seen “Hogwarts: Special Quidditch Program” and “Instructor: H. Potter.” He’d known that Potter was going to be there, but seeing him was still a shock. Harry looked older; he had the beginnings of laugh lines around his mouth and a few stray grey hairs at his temples. And Draco was sure that if he were to smile, there would be a few lines around his eyes. He was dressed in jeans and a ratty old Hogwarts jumper that had seen much better days. Draco would deny ever thinking it, but Potter looked good. The look, the age, the relaxed attitude, even his permanently messy hair, suited him.

Draco hated him just a little bit for it. Why, he wondered, couldn’t he be as comfortable in his skin, and life, as Potter seemed to be?

At school, Draco had known he was gay from an early age, but he’d always been more interested in Theodore Nott to consider Harry as anything more than a rival. But now, standing on the pitch with him, watching Potter’s emerald eyes sparkle in the sun, Draco couldn’t believe he’d missed it.

Swallowing his nerves, Draco clenched his clip board until his knuckles turned white. “Yes, actually I was.”

Harry smiled and Draco noticed that he was right; Potter did have a few faint lines around his eyes. They only made him more attractive. “Is this your first time back since…” He let the sentence trail off. Both of them knew exactly what Potter was referring to.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is.” He looked around at the empty stands and the house banners flapping in the cool breeze. Draco swore that he could hear the cheers of the crowd swirling around him as he stood there.

“Well,” Potter said, drawing Draco out of his thoughts, “shall we get on with it?”

Draco looked at him and nodded, his words lost. Another deep breath and he forced himself to step over the line. When nothing happened, Draco chided himself because it was, after all, nothing more than a line charmed into the grass. “Let’s start with the pitch first, yes?”

Potter smiled and Draco felt the corners of his mouth tug up ever so slightly. “Yeah. Of course.”

****

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

“Draco, love.” Astoria smiled at him, her dark brown eyes wide with anticipation. “Tell me! How did it go?”

“Hmmm?” Draco looked up from the scroll he was scribbling notes on. His report on Potter’s program was due by the end of the day which was in - he checked the clocking ticking happily on the wall - 17 minutes.

“Don’t _hmmmmm_ me,” she mimicked him, making him sound snooty and high pitched, which caused him to look up from his scroll. She smiled excitedly, knowing exactly what she’d done.

“You know how much that irks me, Stor.” He looked back down and checked off a few more “Requirement Satisfactorily Met” boxes with his quill.

“Why else do you think I do it?”

Draco sighed and stuck his eagle feather quill back into the ink pot. He knew that the quickest way to get her to stop badgering him was to tell her exactly what she wanted to know. She wouldn’t go away otherwise. Krup with a bone, she was. “It was a routine inspection, nothing more.” As the words came out of his mouth, Draco felt something inside of him twitch. He ignored it; blaming it on the spicy beef stew he’d had two helpings of for lunch. (He was hungry, ok? Everyone deserved a cheat day now and then.)

Astoria rolled her eyes dramatically. “You are _no_ fun, Draco Malfoy.” Something she told him at least once a day. “I want all of the _gory_ ,” Astoria stressed the word in such a way that Draco felt his stomach clench again, “details.” She crossed her arms over her chest, wrinkling her work robes in the process. “As your superior, I demand that you leave nothing out.”

Draco wanted nothing more than to bang his head against the desk. Just once. He loved Astoria, but most days, she didn’t know when to quit. “Like I said before, and like I’ve noted in my report, it was a routine inspection. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.” Her face fell and Draco felt his stomach twist a bit. “I’m sorry to have to disappoint you. Perhaps a copy of Witch Weekly will have some juicy gossip that will be more to your liking.”

Defeated, Astoria made her way to the office door. “Fine. You win.” She paused, her hand on the doorway. “For now.”

As she walked out, Draco sighed. He’d known that was coming, but it still bothered him. If Astoria sensed something was up, she really wouldn’t let it go. _Especially_ if it had to do with Draco’s love life.

Love life. 

What a joke, Draco thought. Draco hadn’t had anything resembling a love life in years and he certainly wasn’t about to start with Harry Potter. That was just…. Preposterous.

Wasn’t it?

****

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Draco re-read his schedule again and then one more time, just to make sure that he was reading it right. Once he’d come to the conclusion that his eyes _weren’t_ playing tricks on him, Draco yelled, “ASTORIA!” He didn’t care that she was his superior. He didn’t care that he was standing in the middle of the department. He didn’t care that everyone in the room was staring at him. _All_ Draco cared about was getting her into his small office as quickly as possible. The moment he saw her wavy brown head bobbing around the corner, he turned and headed to his office, knowing she would follow.

Not long after he’d stepped inside, he felt her standing behind him. He waited for the door to close with a _snick_ before turning on her. “What is the meaning of this?” he hissed, waving the schedule at her.

“Whatever are you talking about, Draco dear?” Astoria was wide-eyed innocence. Draco didn’t buy it.

“You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about.” He waved the parchment at her, his schedule for the next month scratched out in her handwriting. “You have me inspecting Potter every week for the next month!” He forced himself to take a deep. “According to this, I will be inspecting him routinely before the Hogwarts Christmas break.”

“Yes, Draco, I did schedule you to inspect him a few more times.” Astoria pulled the parchment out of his hand and studied her handiwork. “After reading your report, I was not convinced that the Hogwarts winter program was up to snuff.”

“There was nothing wrong with that report and you know it.”

“Last time I checked, Draco, it was up to _me_ to decide whether or not a report was complete.” She stood up a little straighter, tall and slender, she was almost eye to eye with Draco. “I’ve decided that I want you to do a deeper inspection of the program.” Draco’s chest rose and fell angrily. He’d known she wouldn’t let their discussion from before go, but this was ridiculous, even for her. “You will do your job, as assigned.” She smiled sweetly. “Or quit.”

She walked out before Draco could take a single breath.

****

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Draco stood at the edge of the pitch again, his skin prickling. He wanted to believe that it was due to the early December chill, but he knew better. He was worked up. Angry with Astoria. Irritated with himself for standing at the line again. Embarrassed that he was going to have to explain to Potter why he was back. Again. (And again. _And again_.) It was enough to make him want to turn on his heel and Apparate home where a nice Firewhisky would whisk away his awful day. The only two things keeping him from doing that were Astoria. For one, she’d issued him a challenge – face Potter. For two, she was his boss and he really didn’t want to lose his job. Not over Harry Potter, anyway.

Shaking back his silvery hair, Draco steeled himself for the worst, and then stepped over the line.

With each step he took, his breathing steadied and the muscles in his shoulders relaxed. He could do this; it was just the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. Before Draco knew it, he was standing outside of Potter’s office. When he’d been at school, the small office near the Quidditch locker rooms had belonged to Madam Hooch. Draco had been called in several times – a few for acting out and a few for commendations. She had always kept it neat and orderly, making the cramped space seem much larger than it actually was. His favourite thing about her office had always been the racing brooms lining the wall behind her desk, each one cracked and worn. They had belonged, she’d once told him, to ex-students who had gone on to play professionally. More than once he’d pictured his own Nimbus 2001 up there, gleaming and in perfect condition. How long ago that now seemed.

Raising his hand, Draco took a deep breath and knocked. Three short raps on the wooden door, they sounded surer than he felt. But there was no turning back now, the rustle of papers inside let Draco know that Potter had surely heard him.

“Come in,” Potter called.

Draco didn’t allow himself to hesitate, he was a Ministry official there on business, and he could handle this.

The office that Madam Hooch had made seem bigger now felt horribly cramped. Potter had Quidditch kits lying in a pile on the chair in front of his desk and there was a mound of pads as high as Draco’s waist near the wall. There was also a pile of scrolls near Potter’s feet and a few boxes littered about the room. The tiny office also smelled faintly of sweat, from the pile of kits, no doubt. Draco wrinkled his nose and looked at the wall behind Potter’s desk. Before he could stop himself, he smiled slightly; the brooms were still there. Potter had managed to leave that one small thing untouched and it made something inside of his chest relax.

Draco looked from the brooms to Potter, shocked that he hadn’t said anything yet. It was only then that he noticed that Potter’s face was buried in a scroll, his quill scribbling quickly over it. “Just one second,” he mumbled into the parchment.

As Potter continued to scratch away, Draco watched him. He was bent over double, his face practically touching the scroll he was working on. Draco wondered if his eyes were getting worse, or he was just that engrossed in whatever he was working on. The thought that Potter was so wrapped up in his work warmed Draco, it was almost… endearing.

Draco practically gasped at the thought. He _could not_ find anything endearing about Potter. He didn’t care what Astoria thought, or was trying to prove. Draco was fine being single. And even if he wasn’t, Harry Potter certainly wasn’t an option. It was well known that Harry enjoyed the company of both women _and_ men, but Draco simply would not go there. Potter had refused him as an eleven year old; Draco wasn’t going to give him the chance to do it again.

“Malfoy,” Harry’s shock pulled Draco from his thoughts. “Is something wrong?” Behind his horrible round glasses, Draco noticed that his eyebrows were pulled together, a slight crease between them and when he reached up to adjust his glasses, there was a smudge of ink on his finger.

“No,” Draco quickly said. “I was completely satisfied with your inspection. However, my superior, Astoria Greengrass, has decided that she would like a more in depth analysis of your…” He felt his cheeks reddening as the words flowed out of his mouth, but it was the best he could come up with to explain Astoria’s vendetta, “program.”

Potter nodded, though he was obviously still confused. “Of course. Would you like to see the grounds…”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” Draco tried to smile reassuringly, but gave up quickly. It had never been his strong suit. “I thought that, perhaps, we could just talk. Like an interview.”

Potter nodded and smiled slightly, almost like he felt more comfortable with the idea of a conversation. “You can-” he suddenly noticed the pile of kits on the only other chair in the office “-oh. Sorry about that.” He jumped up and grabbed the dirty uniforms, dropping them unceremoniously in the corner. “Elves haven’t been by yet.” His cheeks reddened as he took a deep breath. He’d obviously just noticed the smell. “Maybe I should open,” waving his wand, Potter opened the two small windows on either side of the door. The breeze that came in was chilly, but it certainly helped to air out the stale smell. “Erm.” It was the first time Potter had looked unhinged since Draco had seen him the other day. “This isn’t helping my case, is it?”

Draco couldn’t help it, he chuckled. “I’m not judging you on the appearance of your office.” He took another pointed look around. “Luckily for you.” He meant it as a joke, but truth be told, Potter’s office left something to be desired. Or, rather, it left _everything_ to be desired. 

“Yeah.” Potter reached up and scratched his head with his ink stained fingers. “I try, but my office isn’t really my top priority.”

Ah, Draco thought, the perfect way to get them back on track. “Then why don’t you tell me what is?” He took the seat in front of Potter’s desk and gestured for him to do the same. It didn’t take long before Potter was seated and Draco had his clipboard and quill ready.

“The kids.” Potter looked at him and the truth of his statement was naked in his eyes. “I remember what it was like, staying here of the Christmas holidays. I _loved_ it.” He smiled fondly. “But I was still… alone. No matter how much I didn’t care about the Dursleys, I never forgot that I didn’t have parents to go home to.” Draco shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with how personal the conversation had gotten. “I wanted to start a program to give the kids something to do over the break. Other than get into trouble, that is.” He laughed a little and Draco tried to join him, but it was difficult. He’d always had a home to go home to over winter. It might not have been ideal, but it was still _home_.

“So I decided to put together a special winter Quidditch program. We have the pitch enclosed in a charm to keep it warm and there are guest instructors and a mini-tournament. The kids who stay really seem to enjoy it. We get more and more every year that stay just to take part.” Potter smiled warmly, clearly proud of his work.

Draco nodded and pretended to be making notes on his clipboard when really, he was too shocked to write down a single thing. When neither of them said anything, Draco searched his mind for something to say, something that sounded intelligent and official, which he definitely wasn’t feeling. “You say there are guest instructors?”

Potter smiled. “Yeah. That’s the kids’ favourite part. Last winter Oliver Wood was the guest. He was a real hit.” He nodded, looking like he was recalling the year before. “This year Ginny is helping out. The signups doubled when she was announced.” He beamed, clearly proud of his ex-girlfriend’s success.

“That’s,” Draco wanted to say _brilliant_ or _fantastic_ , but that felt too… friendly, too personal. Instead, he settled for, “promising.” Draco scribbled another fake note on his clipboard.

“Yeah…” Potter looked at him questioningly, and Draco could tell that Potter was waiting for him to guide the conversation.

The only problem was, Draco didn’t have a single question. He wouldn’t even be here again if not for Astoria’s stubbornness. “Could you tell me…” Draco scanned the clipboard, his heart pounding painfully. He didn’t exactly love his job, but he wanted to come across as a competent professional. Which, he didn’t think he was. “Tell me, ple-” Draco was startled as a small, snow-white cat jumped onto the edge of Potter’s desk. She took a seat on the corner and stared at him with wide, amber eyes. Blinking slowly, she seemed to be examining him.

Potter laughed and reached out to scratch behind her ears. She closed her eyes and purred, before looking back at Draco again. “Who might this be?” He eyed the cat, thankful for her perfect timing.

“This is Sam,” Potter said fondly. “She followed me home one day when I was walking through Muggle London. I’d intended on finding her a home, but the kids got attached to her instantly. She was just a kitten then, though she’s not much older now. Now she hangs around the Quidditch pitch, always happy to get a scratch behind the ears.”

“Is she the new Mrs. Norris?” Draco joked, wondering if the cat would let him pet her. She was still eyeing him and it made Draco a little uncomfortable.

Potter laughed before saying, “No. She is a completely Muggle cat, as far as I can tell. No reporting back to me if a student does something wrong.”

“What a relief.” Draco acted like it was a hugely important that Sam didn’t spy on the students, which made Potter laugh some more. Sam blinked at him again and Draco decided to reach out to her. She leaned forward and sniffed at his fingers a bit before nudging her nose against them. Draco smiled before scratching behind her ears. Her fur was soft and short and felt amazing under his fingertips. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d petted a cat. Growing up, he’d always wanted one, a beautiful silver tabby, but his parents had refused, saying that the antiques in the Manor were too valuable to take the chance. It had broken his heart. “She’s beautiful,” he heard himself say.

When Draco looked away from Sam, he was shocked to find Potter staring at him. There was a small smile on his face that warmed his eyes and Draco felt himself begin to smile in response. “She has that effect on everyone,” Potter said. Draco gave her another scratch and he felt himself calm down when she began to purr. “It’s wonderful,” Draco heard himself whisper. 

“I can imagine.” He knew he should stop petting the cat and, more importantly, stop smiling at Potter, but he couldn’t. _What’s the harm in sharing a smile?_ , he asked himself.

After a while the conversation died away and Draco decided to make his exit. Potter offered to walk him out, but Draco declined politely. The thought of Potter walking him to the Apparition point felt oddly personal and Draco didn’t think it was appropriate. So he’d said his goodbyes and made his way out. He was just about to cross over the line of the pitch when he heard someone call, “Oi! Malfoy!,” in a breathy way.

Draco spun, wondering who was calling him. The voice sounded familiar, but he wasn’t entirely sure until he saw her freckled face. “Ginevra!” He smiled; somehow they’d developed an easy friendship during his inspections of the Harpies and his attendance at their games. It still struck him as odd, but he wouldn’t trade their friendship for the world.

“I’ve asked you not to call me that,” she huffed between breaths. Draco had no idea how far she’d just run to catch up with him, but it must have been a ways.

He laughed. “You’re looking well.” In truth, she looked awful, windswept and sweaty, but it suited her perfectly.

“Don’t lie.” She said it without malice and with a twinkle in her eye. “What are you doing here? Not come to shut Harry down, I hope.” This time, she was serious.

“Nothing of the sort.” Draco stood a little taller, his shoulders a little straighter. “To be perfectly honest, I find his program admirable. It is my supervisor that needs-”

“Ah, Astoria,” Ginny interrupted. “What’s she up to this time?” Ginny had a wonderful understanding of how Astoria worked. She’d learned firsthand the year before, when Astoria had taken it upon herself to try and set Ginny up on a date. With a man. It hadn’t ended well for anyone involved.

“Speaking of,” Draco swept a loose strand of silvery blonde hair out of his eye. The wind whipped it instantly back into his face. “How are things with Pansy?”

“That was a horrible change of topic and you know it, Draco Malfoy.” She pointed a menacing finger at him and he wondered if this was what it felt like to be her brother. “But, since you asked. I broke it off. She got very…”

“Intense?” Draco offered. He loved Pansy dearly, but she was an all-or-nothing type of woman. Always had been.

“That’s one word for it.” It was Ginny’s turn to wipe the hair out of her face. “Two dates and she was already talking about marriage and kids. I was just looking for a bit of fun.”

Draco nodded. He completely understood. He made a mental note to pop round to Pansy’s flat to see how she was doing.

“Speaking of fun,” a wicked smile crossed her freckled face. “Have you been seeing anyone?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Not since Felix, you know that.”

“Do not!” Ginny’s eyes widened in fake shock. “I haven’t heard from you in ages! How could I possibly know what’s going on in your love life if you never come round for tea?”

“Fine. I get your point. We need to have a proper catch up.”

“Too right, we do.” Ginny smiled warmly. “And soon.”

“Yes, soon.” Draco was about to bid his farewells, but Ginny wasn’t ready to let him go.

“How about Harry? He’s been single for a while.”

If not for the completely serious expression on Ginny’s face, Draco would have sworn she was joking. What was it with the women in his life trying to force him and Potter together? There was absolutely no reason for either woman to think that they’d be interested in each other, or that they’d even make a good match. Just because they were both single didn’t mean they should be together. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Aw, Draco. Just think about it.” Ginny punched him lightly on the arm. If anyone else had done that, he’d have jinxed them, but from her, it was sign of affection.

 _“That’s the problem,”_ he wanted to say, _“I’m trying not to.”_

****

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

“Well? Was that report up to your standards? Can we cancel all of the unnecessary visits you scheduled?” Draco stood in front of Astoria’s desk, his hands clasped behind his back. He’d gone out of his way to write the longest, most detailed report of his career, leaving out nothing but the cat. For some reason, he hadn’t wanted to share that particular detail with her.

“Top marks, Draco.” Astoria leaned forward over her desk, perching her chin on her hand. “It really was quite interesting and… passionate.” She said it in such a way that Draco felt his cheeks flush.

“I was merely trying to give you the most complete report possible so that you will call off this charade.” He took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out through his mouth, in hopes that calming his nerves would make the blush disappear.

“No, dear, I’m sorry.” She pretended to rifle through his scrolls, even though they both knew he’d left nothing out. (Other than Sam, which was none of her business.) “But I’d like a more in-depth analysis of the grounds.”

“It’s the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch for the love of Merlin!” So much for staying calm. “You spent seven years there! What more about it do you need to know?”

“Oh, I’m sure that it’s changed quite a bit over the years. The war took its toll on the grounds. I’m sure they’ve made _all sorts_ of improvements.” How she managed to stay so calm and smug, Draco would never understand. “I would like for you to have Mr. Potter show you around.”

“In other words…”

“I’d like for you two to take a walk together!” She smiled gleefully at Draco, her eyes twinkling dangerously.

“Why are you doing this, Stor? What pleasure are you getting out of it?” He thought of Potter’s smile and warmth and of Ginny’s suggestion. She couldn’t possibly be putting him through this just because she wanted to play matchmaker, could she?

“I am doing this because, as your superior, it is within my right to request additional information on a newer Quidditch program. I just want to make sure that things are up to snuff.” It was clearly a lie and equally clear that Astoria knew Draco knew she was lying. Also clear? The fact that she didn’t care that he knew.

It was abuse of power and they both knew it. “I will go _one_ more time. That’s it. If you try and force me to go again, I will go to _your_ superior.”

At that, she flushed an unflattering shade of purple. He watched in satisfaction as her jaw clenched. Draco knew that look. She was trying to come up with something to say and failing.

****

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

“Knock! Knock!” A muffled voice called as they knocked on the door to Draco’s flat. Draco rolled his eyes, wondering why some people felt the need to announce that they were knocking _as_ they were knocking. It was ridiculous. And could only mean one thing…

Bracing himself, he pulled the door open. “Ginny!” It had been a long day and he wasn’t really in the mood for company, but Ginny had been right: it had been ages since they’d seen each other, so he plastered on his most believable smile. When he saw the look on Ginny’s face, he wasn’t sure he was entirely convincing. “Come on in.” To cover up for his obvious lack of enthusiasm, he pulled her in for a tight hug.

After he’d released her, Ginny held up a bottle of his favourite Firewhisky and waved it in salute. “After seeing you today, I thought you could use a drink.”

He laughed. Too right she was. “And what’s your excuse?”

“Do I need one?,” she said, pulling off her cloak and tossing it over the nearest chair.

Draco’s flat was on the smaller side, a far cry from the Manor he’d grown up in, but it was his home and he loved it. Unlike the Manor, it was _his_. He’d picked it out, paid for it, and decorated it with things that were important to him – a few photos on the narrow mantle, a tea set he’d picked up on a trip to France with Felix. To anyone else, it probably looked like a normal flat, with normal furnishings, but to Draco, it was the world.

But tonight, it felt empty.

“You take this,” Ginny held out the bottle to Draco, which he took. “I’ll grab us some glasses.”

As Ginny headed into the kitchen, Draco pulled the gold foil seal from around the mouth of the bottle and opened it. It hissed a little as the pressure inside was released and Draco breathed in the rich scent of the whisky. It had been quite a while since he’d had a really good glass of Ogden’s Old, most pubs refused to carry it because it was so pricey.

“Now tell me,” Ginny held out two tumblers and Draco poured a fair measure into each one. “What has got you so…” She waved the glass at him, seeming to indicate his entire appearance. Looking down, Draco couldn’t see what she was referring to. He was dressed casually in a heavy grey sweater and black trousers and his hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. “Oh, don’t act so innocent. You looked miserable today and you still do.” Ginny waved the second tumbler at him, this time he took it from her before she could spill it on his favourite rug.

“I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.” Draco took a sip, enjoying the burn as it went down. “I am absolutely fine.”

“And I’m in love with a man!” She flopped on the couch, somehow managing not to spill a single drop of her drink. “Let’s stop lying to each other, Draco.”

Draco sighed in defeat and sat down next to her on the couch. Ginny was sprawled casually on one hip, her arm resting on the back of the sofa and her glass perched on her knee. Draco mirrored her, but didn’t feel nearly as comfortable as she looked. “How do you do that?”

“I’m brilliant! Obviously,” she beamed at him over the lip of her tumbler. “Now tell me…”

“I don’t know.” Draco threw his head back, letting it fall on the edge of the couch. “Nothing? Everything?” Ginny nodded and Draco found himself going on. “As you know, Astoria scheduled me to inspect Potter’s winter Quidditch program, which I did.” Another nod from Ginny and sip for Draco. “What you don’t know is that when you saw me, that was my second time there.” Ginny’s eyebrows furrowed in question. “I inspected Potter a few days ago, gave him a perfect report. Astoria then got it into her head that there was… something between Potter and I.” He thought of her gleeful face after the first visit. “Or, rather, she decided that _I_ had something for Potter. Which I don’t. Clearly.” Draco finished in a rush, trying to decide if he believed himself.

“Oh, clearly.” Ginny pursed her lips together and nodded. Draco could tell that, much like Astoria, she didn’t believe him.

“What?” Draco gripped his tumbler, the glass warm and smooth in his grip.

“You’ve been single for a long time, Draco. Maybe she was just hoping that you two would hit it off. You two did spent a _lot_ of time obsessing over each other at school. Everyone knows that.”

Draco’s mouth dropped open in shock. “I hated him! He hated me! Everyone knows _that_ as well.”

“Thou doth protest too much, me thinks!” Ginny smirked, sipping her whisky. “Honestly Draco, we were so young. Would it really be such a shock to think that maybe your attraction to him was just that: _attraction_?”

Draco pressed his lips together, trying to think. He could feel a headache starting right between his eyes, which didn’t surprise him at all. He’d been so focused on Potter at school, constantly hating him, plotting against him. Draco didn’t see how any of that could have been a subconscious crush. His feelings of animosity had been _very_ genuine.

“It’s sort of like pulling a little girl’s pig tails, you know? Picking on the person you like because you don’t know how else to show them how you really feel.”

“I was hardly pulling Harry Potter’s pig tails, Ginevra!” Draco swallowed the rest of his whisky, coughing a bit at the burn.

“No…” Ginny narrowed her eyes at him, like she was trying to figure out some sort of puzzle. “I think you’re right.” Draco nodded in satisfaction and leaned over to set his empty tumbler on the coffee table. “I think you were pulling each other’s...” Draco felt the tumbler slip from his fingers, he barely had time to think before it landed on the carpet with a muffled _thunk_. Draco didn’t pick it up, he didn’t even move. Instead, he just looked at her, his chest heaving. Ginny held up her hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, you two were awfully interested in one another. Think about it.”

Draco didn’t want to think about it, but once Ginny planted the thought in his mind, there was no stopping it.

That night, Draco lay in bed, the pounding right behind his eyes. He tried a pain relieving charm that did nothing. He tried a sleep charm, which also did nothing. All he could do was toss back and forth, Ginny’s words pulsing through his aching head. _It wasn’t possible,_ he tried to tell himself over and over. He’d hated Potter for not taking his hand on that first day. He’d hated Potter for being, well, Potter. What they’d shared was nothing more than a _very_ tense school rivalry.

During that time, he’d dated Pansy for a bit, but for the most part, he’d been fixated on Theodore Nott. Draco had never done anything about it and, as far as he knew, Nott was now married with children. But didn’t that mean something? Didn’t the fact that Draco had had a major school crush prove that he felt nothing even remotely romantic for Potter? He wanted to say _yes_ , but every time he tried to think it, Ginny’s words stopped him.

_“I’m just saying, you two were awfully interested in one another. Think about it.”_

She’d been dating Potter for part of that time. How could she possibly think that? Hadn’t Potter been completely fixated on her during sixth year?

Draco pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, making the pain worse. He wished that he’d never set foot on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch again. It had dredged up too many long forgotten memories and long buried feelings. For the past twelve years he’d been working to get past what he’d been through (and done) during his childhood. And stepping back onto the Hogwarts pitch had brought it all back. Voldemort may be dead, but Draco felt just as conflicted as he had at fifteen.

He rolled on to his side and punched his pillow into submission. Draco told himself that he was going to sleep. But his mind seemed to think otherwise. As it grew later and later, Draco thought back to his time at Hogwarts. He remembered Potter as being scrawny and unkempt, his clothes ill-fitting and his hair a constant mess. He also remembered that Potter was a so-so student who never really stood out in any classes beyond Defense Against the Dark Arts (which was fixed), flying (Draco would never forgive him for out flying him) and Advanced Potions (he refused to even acknowledge this). Not once could Draco remember himself looking at Potter for longer than he had to or lingering on his looks or words.

Ginny was wrong.

Completely wrong.

Because if Draco truly had been subconsciously falling for Potter, wouldn’t he be able to recognize it now? Hindsight was twenty-twenty, after all.

As he continued to think back on his relationship with Potter at Hogwarts, Draco felt his body begin to relax and his mind slip…

****

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

The next morning, Draco slipped into his favourite pair of dark-grey trousers and an emerald green jumper that his mother had picked up for him in Italy last Christmas. Draco considered himself in the mirror, he looked surer of himself than he felt, despite the dark circles under his eyes. A quick dab of his favourite beauty potion and they were gone, leaving him as fresh as ever. Before leaving the bathroom, Draco grabbed a black velvet ribbon and looped it under his chin length blonde hair before pulling it back into a sleek ponytail tied with a perfect bow. With his hair neatly secured at the nape of his neck, he looked elegant and sophisticated, the consummate professional.

Before Apparating to Hogsmeade, Draco stopped by the office. He rapped quickly on Astoria’s door before walking in, not giving her a chance to refuse him. She was leaning back in her chair, a scroll so long it touched her knees rolled out on top of the desk. Draco could tell that she hadn’t been in long as the mug of tea on her desk was still steaming, delicate tendrils of steam curling up above it. She looked up from her reading, eyebrows rising at the site of him standing before her desk. She looked as if was about to say something, but Draco cut her off before she could even say _hullo_.

“I spent a large part of last night awake in bed, thinking about… many things.” He clasped his hands behind his back, trying to steady his nerves. “I decided that I will visit Potter and Hogwarts, one last time. You are abusing your power and I will not be bullied because you are trying to prove some ridiculous point.”

“And if I disagree?” Her tone was cool, her eyes narrowed.

“Then I shall have to go to _your_ superior and explain your abuse of position.” Draco clenched his teeth, released them. “My personal life is my _personal_ life. I will not have my _job_ used as a way to…” He searched for the right word, but came up short. “You are a dear friend, Astoria. You know I am more than happy to discuss my life with you, but _not_ as part of my job.”

Astoria’s stony gaze softened, but she didn’t smile or appear to… He didn’t know. Draco was hoping that maybe she would smile, or tell him that everything was fine. He didn’t think that she would take her role as his superior as more important than her role as his best friend at the moment. It hurt him that it appeared he’d been wrong about that.

“Draco. I would like your final report on Potter’s project on my desk tomorrow morning.” Astoria pursed her shimmering pink lips together and Draco thought for sure she was about to say something else. But she didn’t. Instead, she dropped her gaze back to the scroll in her hands. Draco could tell that she wasn’t actually reading; her eyes were fixed to a single point in the middle of the parchment.

Feeling triumphant and lighter than he had when he’d walked in, Draco walked out of her office. Astoria was his best friend, but he didn’t like how pushy she could be at times. She tended to poke and pry in ways that made him feel like he was being trampled, rather than helped. He was sure that the subject would come up with her again, but for today, Draco felt as if he’d gotten through to her.

After grabbing his favourite grey traveling cloak and fastening it around his neck, Draco Apparated just outside of the Hogwarts grounds. The second he stopped spinning, he felt the cold December wind whip around his collar and congratulated himself on picking his heaviest traveling cloak for today’s inspection. Gloves would have been nice, he thought, be he couldn’t have everything. Shaking off the cold as best as he could, Draco strode around the grounds and to the pitch.

He wasn’t halfway there when he saw a figure zipping through the air above the stands. Potter. Draco found himself smiling just a little as he watched him dart from one end of the pitch to the other, making pinpoint turns that professional players still envied. It was nothing short of criminal that Potter had decided to never go pro. He could have won the Cup in a heartbeat.

Draco’s smile faltered when he realized where his thoughts had been. It had been years since he’d thought about Potter. And he wasn’t sure that he’d ever had a single positive thought about him. Unless Ginny had been right and those thoughts had always been there, buried deep. Draco didn’t know if she was right. If he’d felt something for Potter other than hate wouldn’t he know it now? He wasn’t sure. All he did know right then, was that Potter was still a spectacular flier and that he couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He felt his smile tug the corners of his mouth again and continued towards the pitch.

The walk was shorter than he remembered from the school to the pitch and before he knew it, Draco found himself at the edge of the field. Once again he stood just outside of the line, but rather than being paralyzed, he was content to look up and watch as Potter made another lap. The cold December winds picked up, whipping his cloak about his ankles and Draco watched to see how the wind affected Potter, but it didn’t. Only then did Draco remember that there was an enchantment around the pitch keeping it warm inside so that the kids could practice outside over the Christmas holiday. That was the whole point of his program, after all.

As Potter finished his lap, Draco stuck out his arm in a wave, catching Potter’s attention instantly. Draco watched as he took the curve around the Ravenclaw bleachers before angling his broom towards the ground. He landed smoothly, his feet touching the ground without a single hitch in his step. Potter definitely still had it. Draco envied him.

“Draco!” Potter called as he jogged towards him, his hair whipping about wildly.

Draco tried to ignore the small thrill of pleasure he felt as Potter smiled and called to him. He cleared his voice to make sure it was steady before calling out his own greeting.

“Another surprise inspection? Or are you here for another reason?” Draco couldn’t be sure, but he thought that, just maybe, Potter sounded a tiny bit hopeful.

“The last of your inspections, which I’m sure will come as a great relief to you.” A knot of disappointment settled deep within Draco’s gut, shocking Draco.

For an instant, Potter’s face seemed to darken, like maybe he was a little disappointed too. Draco tried not to read too much into it. This was Potter, after all. There was nothing there. “Yes, a huge relief,” Potter said. Draco couldn’t help it, his eyebrows shot up. He knew that, as an inspector, he would never be anyone’s favourite. But he’d thought… What had he thought? Draco mentally chastised himself. Hadn’t he _just_ decided that there was nothing between them?

“No,” Potter fumbled with the broomstick in his hands. Apparently he was just as clumsy as ever when he was on the ground. “No. I didn’t mean it like _that_.” Potter reached out, as if that would help explain what he’d really meant. “I just… No more inspections means everything’s ok, right? Or, I guess,” he reached up and rumpled his hair, a sure sign of agitation in Potter. “I guess it could mean that I didn’t pass and that you’re shutting me down.” The look of worry in his deep green eyes tugged at Draco.

“No, you’re absolutely fine.” Draco forced himself to nod and smile. For a moment, he thought about telling Potter about Astoria and how she’d cooked up some scheme, forcing necessary visits, but he stopped himself. That would require far too much explanation and Draco didn’t even understand everything he was feeling. “This is just a,” he rooted around in his mind, trying to come up with a plausible explanation, “conclusion.” It sounded ridiculous, but Potter smiled and seemed ok with it, so Draco pretended like it was the truth.

“In that case,” Potter shouldered his broom, looking more relaxed, “what would you like to see?”

Draco thought back to Astoria and her demand that he _take a walk_ with Potter. It had irritated him before, that his job should be reduced to taking a walk around the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, but it was a nice, if chilly, day out and Draco was feeling more relaxed than he had in quite a while. “I would like to walk around the pitch.”

“You just want to go for a walk?”

Potter sounded shocked and Draco felt his cheekbones heat instantly. How had he thought that taking a _walk_ with Potter was a good idea? “To… inspect the grounds.”

“Oh. Uh…” Potter shifted from foot to foot and Draco felt like he was trying to regroup. “Ok.”

Draco watched as Potter searched for something to say, the look of confusion on his face made Draco’s cheeks flame again. “It’s a beautiful day out,” the wind chose that moment to whip around Draco, ruffling his silky blonde hair. “Even if it is cool.”

“It’s not cold in here,” Potter said brightly, obviously happy for the change in topic. “You just have to… Wait, why are you still standing out there?”

Confusion twisted Draco’s features. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not actually on the pitch. It’s charmed, remember?”

No, actually, Draco had forgotten. He vaguely remembered thinking about it when he’d been watching Potter fly, but he’d become so engrossed that he’d forgotten. But now that Potter mentioned it, he looked down at the ground; once again the toes of his black shoes touched the white line that marked out the Quidditch pitch. One side he was on, the other off. It seemed silly that a single white line should still hold such power, but as Draco stepped over it, he felt himself pass through the invisible barrier. It was a brilliant spell, one that only a gifted witch or wizard could have performed so expertly. Even Draco’s shield charm usually left a little bit of shimmer in the air. “That is a remarkable bit of spell work; I couldn’t even see the barrier. Who did it?”

Potter beamed and Draco found himself caught up in it instantly. “Hermione, of course.”

 _Of course,_ Draco thought. He should have known. As much as he hated it admit it, Hermione had _always_ been brilliant; naturally she’d be able to pull off such a beautiful charm. “It is truly superior to anything I’ve ever seen,” Draco reached out to touch it; he could just feel the magic of the charm coursing over his skin. He pushed his hand through the barrier and his fingers were met by the chilly December wind, when he pulled them back inside of the bubble, they warmed up instantly. Outside of the pitch it was early winter, the cold just on the verge of unpleasant. Inside, it felt like early fall, still warm but with a touch of cool in the air – perfect playing weather. “Did she cast the temperature charms as well?”

“Yeah,” Potter beamed. “She set up the bubble, the temperature and weather. She also set up charms that allow me to change the conditions in here. I can make it rain, snow, dark, light…” Potter looked around the pitch and Draco could tell that he was imaging all of the different things he could do inside of the charm. Draco didn’t blame him; it was like having his own little world inside on the Quidditch pitch.

“It’s brilliant,” Draco whispered.

Before he could stop himself, before he could stomp on the thoughts, Draco imagined himself flying around the pitch with Potter, snow falling heavy outside of the dome, unable to touch them as they zipped from one end to the other. His heart ached as he came back to himself, his feet planted firmly on the ground. He could feel Potter’s eyes on his face, but he refused to turn and look at him. Draco didn’t think he could handle seeing Potter’s expression right then. What if he could tell something was wrong? What if Potter wanted… Wanted what? Draco didn’t know. All he knew was that, right then, he couldn’t handle the thought of looking into Potter’s eyes.

“Draco?” Potter’s soft voice pulled Draco’s attention from dreams of Quidditch and flying and… whatever.

“It’s nothing,” he heard himself say; even though Potter hadn’t asked what was wrong. “Let’s-”

 _Meow_.

Draco startled at the tiny _meow_ and looked down. Sam, the snow white cat was looking up at him expectantly. She yawned before blinking slowly and pointedly at Draco. Watching her, he felt the ache in his heart subside just enough to keep him from running. Without thinking, Draco smiled and crouched beside her to scratch behind her ears. He couldn’t help himself. “Does she stay nearby?”

Potter sat beside them, laying the broom on the ground, gracefully not asking him what was wrong again. Draco envied his careless ease, how could he just lounge about like that? Draco felt horribly uncouth, crouched as he was. Potter looked all too comfortable for the situation and Draco was desperate to feel just as relaxed as Potter seemed to be.

“As far as I can tell.” Potter reached out and Sam sniffed delicately at his fingers, but didn’t move away from Draco. “She comes and goes as she pleases, but she can usually be found on the sidelines, or lounging on the bleachers, when we’re out here. She has a bed in my office, but she doesn’t always use it.”

Draco snorted as Sam twisted her head so that he could scratch the other side of her neck. “Of course she doesn’t,” he said more to the cat than Potter.

“Uh, so… you like cats?” Potter picked at the grass around him, tossing the shredded blades to the side.

“Hmmm,” he watched as Sam yawned widely before twisting her face to the other side. “Yes. They’re marvelous creatures.”

“I always wanted a dog when I was little. Thought I’d get one once I got older.” He tossed a few more blades of grass to the side. “Still don’t have one.”

It was an oddly personal turn for the conversation to take, but Draco found that he didn’t mind. Despite the cramps in his thighs, he felt almost relaxed. “Why not?”

“Dunno, to be honest. I thought about it for a bit, but then I moved, and moved again. The timing just never seemed right, I guess.” Potter reached out and scratched the underside of Sam’s chin, her eyes closing in contentment at all of the attention. “Now I’m here.”

“And now you have this stunning beauty to keep you company.” Draco could no longer stand the burning in his thighs. He had to make a choice – stand and break the moment or sit and get lost in whatever was happening.

He tucked one foot underneath himself and sat as gracefully as possible.

Sam stretched out between the two of them, arching her back and extending her long limbs, her toes spreading as far apart as possible. It was clear that she not only wanted them to pet her, but that she expected it as well. Potter chuckled and stroked her from the top of her head to the tip of her tail, which she twitched once before whipping it out of his reach. “This cat.” The statement was filled with so much affection that Draco could tell how much of an impact she’d made on him.

When Sam turned her golden eyes on him, Draco reached out and stroked around her neck. She began purring so intently that Draco and Potter started laughing at the same time. “I take it she gets lots of attention?”

“Loads. No one can resist her,” Potter laughed.

“Can’t say I blame them.” Sam rolled over, exposing her other side and Draco reached out to give her another scratch. The tips of his fingers slid through the soft fur around her neck and he followed the line of her spine, causing her to arch and purr louder.

“Me either.” Draco looked up to find Potter watching him, his eyes focused. Draco paused, his hand on Sam’s side; he could feel her purr vibrating under his palm. As Potter’s hand slid over his, his long fingers dipping between Draco’s, Draco felt his breathing fall in synch with the cat’s steady heart. At that moment, it was the only thing that felt real.

And then…. It hit Draco. He was miserable.

Alone.

Lonely.

He missed flying. He missed doing something that he _loved_.

Draco wanted more from his life than an empty flat and a job that payed the bills.

He wanted to have a cat, someone to come home to, and something that made him excited to get out of bed in the morning. He wanted _so_ much. Is that why Astoria had set him on such a ridiculous goose chase? Had she been able to tell? Had Ginny?

Feeling Potter’s hand on his felt… It felt perfect. But it also felt impossible. He _couldn’t_ build a life with Potter. Draco had always hated him. Sitting there in the grass, their hands touching, he knew that Ginny had been wrong. Draco _hadn’t_ had feelings for him all those years ago. But now? Now Draco felt his skin warming to Potter’s touch and his soul yearning for more. It was like his fingers were tingling and the sensation was climbing up his arm and spreading through his body.

“Fly with me,” Potter whispered. It was a statement. It was a request. It was a promise. “Please?”

“I….” Tired of the attention, Sam squirmed out from underneath their hands and trotted away, but Harry didn’t let go.

“Don’t tell me you don’t want to.” He held tighter, the palm of his hand pressed against the back of Draco’s. “I know you do. I could see it in your eyes…”

Draco bit his bottom lip, his grey eyes flickering to the sky. It had begun to snow and he watched as the huge flakes fell outside of the bubble. He wanted to fly so badly he could taste it, but the thought of getting back on a broom… And not just that, but to fly with Potter… He couldn’t. Draco couldn’t even make himself speak.

“Please,” Potter whispered, squeezing Draco’s hand softly.

“I,” was all that Draco was able to say. Everything else died on his tongue. How could he explain that reason he couldn’t fly was because he missed it too much? How could he explain that even the thought of sitting on a broom again made his chest ache? When even just thinking about it was causing his throat to tighten painfully? “Please…” Draco thought about getting up and running away, but before he could, Potter stood. Without ever breaking eye contact, his flicked his wand and another broom came flying out of the office. Draco didn’t need to wait for it to arrive; from its speed and the way it curved around the small building, Draco could tell that it was a Firebolt. And a beautiful one at that.

“You can’t say no.” Potter looked sure and confident, but his voice wavered just a bit, like he was trying to convince the both of them. That little moment of uncertainty made Draco feel calmer, like just maybe climbing on a broom for the first time in years, with Harry Potter, no less, wasn’t the worst idea in the world.

“I,” Draco tried again. Finding that he still didn’t have words, he took a deep, painful breath and pushed himself to his feet. It was the most graceful answer and if Potter had a problem with that, well… Draco didn’t really know what he’d do, but he knew he’d probably never set foot on a single Quidditch pitch again.

Potter looked at him, his face brightened by a wide smile that was two parts joy and one part relief. “Let’s fly,” he said, jumping to his feet. The Firebolt was hovering next to Potter at hip height, just waiting for his command. Draco longed to ride it, but he figured that it was most likely Potter’s personal broom and not one of the school ones, so he didn’t bother asking. Instead, he reached out for the broom still lying on the ground. It looked a little worn, but was in far better condition than any of the school brooms that Draco could remember riding. “What are you doing,” Potter asked.

“Getting ready to fly,” Draco said, the confusion clear in his voice.

“I’ve got the Comet, you take the Firebolt.” Potter stuck out his hand and summoned the broom stick, it obeyed immediately. “It’s a beautiful broom, believe it or not.” Throwing his leg over the hovering broom stick and situating himself, he gave Draco no choice but to reach for the Firebolt. The second his hand closed around it he could feel the magic surging through the handle. It was ready for him and he was finally ready for it.

Unable to bear wasting another minute on the ground, Draco through his leg over the handle. With hardly a thought he was rushing straight up into the air, his blond hair whipping freely around his face. He barely registered that the ribbon he’d tied around it was gone, most likely lost in his meteoric rise. As he climbed his and higher, Draco felt the weight of the past fifteen years lift from his shoulders – childhood grudges, his feud with Potter, Voldemort, his parents, the trials… It all melted away, just like the snowflakes as they hit the top of the dome. He felt his mouth split into a smile so large that he could feel it in his cheeks and eyes. He hadn’t felt this amazing since…

Well…

Draco couldn’t really remember the last time he’d felt so free and light. So happy.

He laughed, not caring that Potter was watching him, not caring that Potter was right there, high above the Quidditch pitch with him. Draco looked over at him and found his own joy reflected in Potter’s gaze. As their eyes locked, Draco felt something click into place. He felt something that he never thought he’d feel again.

He felt like something wonderful was about to happen.

Potter was kind and he was handsome. Potter still flew and he had a cat. Potter was looking at him like he’d never seen anything more beautiful. Draco knew that look on his own face said the exact same thing about Potter.

Draco smiled widely and freely, before either of them could speak, he leaned left and the Firebolt obeyed, swerving around Potter to speed off toward the far end of the pitch. Slytherin. The green and silver banners bearing the snake crest flapped in the breeze, mixing with the wind and echoing through Draco’s ears. The sound made Draco’s heart beat faster. He was home. It had been a very long time since he’d set foot in the Slytherin dormitories, but he would always be a Slytherin at heart.

He could hear Potter’s Comet coming up behind him and Draco barely thought it before the Firebolt dropped. It didn’t angle and give downward like a Wronski feint, but rather, dropped straight down, like all of the magic had been sucked out of it. Draco laughed as his stomach clenched from the free-fall. It felt terrifying and amazing. Another thought and the broomstick was pulling him forward, forward, forward, straight into a sea of red and gold banners. Chest practically pressed to the broom handle, Draco looked over his shoulder to find Potter trailing behind him, but not by much.

That old feeling of adrenaline-fueled competition surged through Draco’s veins and he urged the broom faster and faster. It obeyed him easily and Draco was quickly whipping through the Gryffindor banners. He stretched out one hand and smiled as the fabric swept over his skin.

Draco could hear Potter laughing behind him and felt the rush of wind as he flew up behind him. Even though the Comet was no match for the Firebolt and Draco could easily leave him behind, Draco found himself slowing and allowing Potter to keep pace. It was like second year all over again and they were nose to nose, battling for the Snitch. But this time, instead of catching a little fluttering ball, they only wanted to catch each other.

“You’re just as brilliant as I remember,” Potter shouted over the roaring wind.

“So are you!” While Draco may never have had buried feelings for Potter, one thing he could say… He’d always admired Potter’s flying skills. But then again, who hadn’t?

“Watch this…” Potter pulled his wand from his back pocket, how it hadn’t fallen out, Draco would never know, and gave it a small flick. The next thing Draco knew, beautiful sparkling snowflakes were falling all around him. He figured that somehow Potter must have opened a filter that let the snow in, but when the flakes fell on his face, they were warm and didn’t melt.

“What,” Draco reached out and watched at the flakes landed on his palm, making a sparkling pile. “How did-”

“I begged Hermione for snow, minus the cold.” Potter shrugged. “I wanted the kids to feel like it was still winter…

“Without it actually feeling like winter?”

“Basically,” Potter laughed. “Didn’t want them to all end up sick, but I didn’t want them to miss out on Christmas, either.”

Draco looked to the sky. It was odd, being able to see the real snow falling in larger globs outside of the bubble over the pitch while the small, crystalline fake ones fell inside. He loved the feel of them on his face, landing delicately on his cheeks and lips. “It’s perfect,” Draco whispered.

He expected Potter to thank him or act like it was all Hermione’s doing (which it was). What he didn’t expect was for Potter to reach out and run his fingertips over the curve of his cheek. A day ago he would have pulled away. A day ago he wouldn’t have even been on a broom.

Today, Draco turned his face just enough to look Potter in the eyes. He blinked slowly, lazily, just as Sam had when she’d looked at him. There was a question in Potter’s green eyes and though Draco didn’t know what it was, he knew his answer…

Yes.

Whatever it was, _yes_.

Draco closed his eyes again and before he could take a breath, he felt Potter’s lips press softly against his. The touch was as light as the snowflakes landing on his cheeks and Draco sighed, reveling in the feel of skin against skin. He wanted to reach out, to touch Potter, but his hands, clenched on the broom handle, were the only things keeping him from falling off. Thankfully, Potter didn’t seem to mind as his long fingers slid into Draco’s hair, rubbing over his scalp and sending a shiver down Draco’s spine.

“Is this ok?” Potter whispered the words against Draco’s mouth, brushing their lips together with each syllable and it drove Draco mad. He didn’t think he would ever get enough.

Draco didn’t speak, there were no words. Instead, he pulled one hand free of the broomstick and reached out for Potter. He wobbled a bit, his balance lost in the moment, but he found Potter’s shoulder quickly and pulled him as close as possible. The tips of their brooms handles clicked together and their knees pressed together painfully, but Draco didn’t care. He wasn’t about to let go. Not now. Not ever.

He never wanted his feet, or heart, to touch the ground again.

 

**Author's Note:**

>  **Author’s Notes**  
>  \- Nerakrose! Happy Erised. I really hope you enjoyed your fic. I have so much fun writing Draco and I hope you liked this version of him. :)  
> \- To my beta – THANK YOU!!! You are awesome. *hugs*  
> \- Reviews are love.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! You can show your appreciation for the author in a comment here or on [livejournal](https://hd-erised.livejournal.com/94187.html). ♥
> 
> This story is part of an on-going anonymous fest hosted at hd_erised@livejournal.com. The author will be revealed January 8th.


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